Perfectly Timed Moans
Rosita stepped into the salon with flushed cheeks and an eager smile. Her glittering eyes swept hungrily across the room. One hand gripped the edge of the reception desk, the other clutched the gaudy blue gemstone pendant hanging from her gold chain.
“Is he here yet?” she panted.
Mia bit the inside of her lower lip to stop herself from laughing. Shoulders hunched, she trembled silently at the sight of Rosita’s barely contained anticipation.
“He’s waiting just for you, Rosita,” she purred.
With a graceful, theatrical gesture, she pointed toward the slightly open door of Gael’s room.
Rosita let out a long breath and closed her eyes. Pressing her open palm to her chest, she slowly traced a few circles over her heart. Then, chin lifted with quiet determination, she headed toward the massage room. Mia pressed her fingertips to her forehead and shook her head. Part of her thought about her grandmother, whom she never wanted to picture in this kind of state. Another part genuinely hoped she herself would still be this sexually alive at Rosita’s age.
She had just stood up to make herself a coffee when a stern-looking woman in a tailored pantsuit and a sharp Cleopatra bob walked in.
“Can I help you?” Mia asked with polite curiosity.
The woman pursed her lips self-importantly, then surveyed the salon with her chin slightly raised.
“Is there some Nico working here?” she asked slowly.
“Yes. Some Nico is our hairdresser.”
The woman’s eyes flickered at the subtle but unmistakable mockery. She pursed her lips again, then began tapping her fingers against the counter as though considering something deeply.
“My friend comes here. To him. Apparently he’s good.”
Mia sat back down and melted into the padded leather chair. She let the strange newcomer decide whether she actually wanted anything at all. Mia certainly wasn’t going to coax her into it. They already had more than enough eccentric clients as it was.
Then, as though the moment had been carefully staged in advance, a long, drawn-out moan drifted from Gael’s room into the salon’s tense silence.
“Gaael…”
The Cleopatra-haired woman’s eyes widened, though she didn’t lift her head. Color rushed into her cheeks at the sensual sound. Mia pressed her lips together to keep from smiling. Especially since the noises drifting out of the massage room from time to time could fool even the most experienced listener. Most people instinctively imagined something erotic when they heard the moaning, even if they knew something entirely different was happening behind that door.
The tense silence was finally cut through by the woman’s cold whisper.
“Is it always like this?”
The corner of Mia’s mouth twitched.
“Once a month, like clockwork. For about an hour. Roughly every five minutes.”
The woman rolled her eyes.
“Does she actually come?”
“Well,” Mia began sweetly, “this is a beauty salon where massage services are also available. We do not, however, provide erotic services, nor are we planning to. Though honestly, I’m not even sure whether legally we could.”
“I’m a lawyer. I know exactly what is and isn’t legal,” the Cleopatra-haired woman replied immediately, seizing the opportunity.
Nico’s arrival couldn’t have been better timed. Mia sprang up from her chair in visible relief.
“Counselor, this is Some Nico, the allegedly professional one. If you have any further questions, I’m sure he can clarify them for you.”
Before the woman could respond, Mia disappeared into the kitchen.
A shadow crossed Nico’s face. Mia fleeing the scene rarely meant anything good.
“So?” he asked, looking curiously at the Cleopatra-haired woman. “What can I do for you?”
The woman instinctively straightened her posture.
“I need a wash and blowout before my hearing on Friday. If possible, early in the morning.”
Nico gave a casual shrug and sat down at the computer.
“Sure, we can do that. What name should I put down?”
“Adele. My friend Emily comes here too.”
“Emily… right,” Nico said with a nod. “Okay then. Friday. Wash and blowout.”
“Correct,” the lawyer confirmed.
“My God, Gael, are you trying to kill me?” Rosita wailed dramatically from behind the door.
The lawyer glanced at her watch with measured composure.
“Hm. Impressive timing…”
*
Gael’s door opened, and Rosita stumbled out looking rumpled and delightfully disheveled.
“My God… this man…”
Mia hurried over to her.
“Let me help you. Come sit by the big mirror and I’ll fix your hair a little.”
“Fine, but don’t touch my skin. I want to keep Gael’s scent on me until tonight.”
Gael watched the scene with an almost imperceptible smile.
“So, same time next month?”
Rosita snatched the comb from Mia’s hand and fixed her short, thick hair with a few brisk strokes.
“Make it three weeks instead, darling. A month is far too long to go without this kind of intense pampering. I’ll definitely find myself some casual affair before then.”
Gael walked slowly and deliberately toward the reception desk. He didn’t sit down at the computer. He simply cleared his throat softly.
“Coming,” Mia replied obediently.
As usual, she tapped the mouse against the desk a few times before opening the booking calendar.
“You’re booked in, Rosita. And fix your blouse — you buttoned it wrong,” she warned the older woman gently. Then she turned toward Nico. “And you should prepare yourself. That woman who called four times before actually booking an appointment is about to walk in.”